hours now since I had first enjoyed the honor of Mr. Esper
Indiman's acquaintance; the novelty of having enough to eat--
actually enough--was already beginning to wear off. Man is a
wonderful creature; give him time and he will adjust himself to
anything.

At the corner of Fifth Avenue and Twenty- seventh Street, Indiman
stopped suddenly and picked up a small object. It was a latch-key
of the familiar Yale-lock pattern. I looked at it rather
indifferently.

"Man! man!" said Indiman, with simulated despair. "Surely you are
an incorrigibly prosaic person. A key--does it suggest to you no
possibilities of mystery, of romance?"

"Well, not without a door," I answered, smartly.

"Oh, is that all! To-morrow we will go out and find a door upon
which this little key may be profitably employed. You promise to
enter that door with me?"

"I promise."




III

House in the Middle of the Block